


the detective and the murderer

by survivedhellswrath



Category: Original Work, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Ficlet, No Plot/Plotless, Peacekeepers, always angst, damien needs to loosen up, deanna needs a hug, detective + fbi’s most wanted, i love my heteros, just a ship me and madi obsess over, just one shots, lorelai is the best in-law ever, milf deanna is so important 2 me, no definitely smut, probably smut, ty madi ily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:02:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29563713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivedhellswrath/pseuds/survivedhellswrath
Summary: this is just a collection of one shots i’m writing for my favorite original characters ship (sort of). fem!deanna + a warlock oc, based off of spnrp on instagram + me and madi’s characters. imagine shamier anderson + mellie scrofano/wyndolls. carry on uwu
Relationships: OC/OC, deanna winchester/damien grady, deanna/damien
Kudos: 3





	1. “I already know you well enough, Deanna Winchester.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is for madi and cali, 2/3rds of the no.1 deanmien stan trio. here’s them meeting for the first time while i figure our ao3

A soft sigh from the huntress. She rested her cheek on the heel of her hand, eyes closed as she daydreamed about being anywhere but here, while her brother chatted up the deputies, looking for any information on the murder. She hated the paperwork part of her job, the socializing with the narcs. She wanted to throw up whenever a man flashed his shiny badge at him as an attempt to start a conversation not based off of another supernatural murder.  
Her attention was grabbed by the next when she saw a man enter from the corner of her eye. People stepped out of the way for him as he entered, and Deanna felt an involuntary need to straighten her posture.

His hand rested on the gun on his hip, a reminder that he was in charge, not these deputies with their thumbs up their asses. Brown eyes scanning the station and the inhabitants, black stubble attached to umber skin. She stared, freckled skin turning a pale pink. Who the hell was this uptight looking douche? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. But her feet already decided for her, as she stood up from the desk, abruptly ending the conversation she was spacing out of.

She crossed the room, faux badge in her hand as she flipped it open.  
“Hi. FBI. And you are—“  
“Not falling for a fake badge.”  
Deanna stood in awe for a moment at this stranger who already had her pinned.  
“I already know you well enough, Deanna Winchester. Alias Deanna Campbell, Jude Campbell, Stevie Singer — you’re on the FBI’s most wanted, not their employee of the month. Quite frankly, I’m shocked none of these deputies saw you and had their cuffs out instantly. My name is Detective Grady, I’ll show you the body, but stay out of my way - I don’t have time for hunters.”

He was already walking away when Deanna opened her mouth to speak. She furrowed her brows, following quickly behind the taller man after her initial shock. He was a detective, that was for sure. And he certainly knew he caught her attention.


	2. “did you just wink?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deanna tries to flirt, but fails miserably, because damien doesn’t fully get that she wants to get with him. lorelai has to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (˵ ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°˵)ﾉ⌒♡*:･。.

“Chinese or Italian?”  
Deanna lifted her head from the paperwork before her, struggling to focus her eyes on the detective after her brain beat itself purple trying to deal with the files.  
“I’d kill you for crab rangoon. Are we gonna have a late night?” Deanna teased the warlock, an eyebrow raised as his furrowed. What was there to be confused about? She swore she was being so obvious.

“Uh.. yeah.” He hesitated, throwing on his jacket. “You haven’t done any paperwork in the past three months. We have a lot of shit to write up and file out.”  
“Oh, right.” She awkwardly slumped back in her seat, realizing she’d have to sit in the police station for far longer than she’d’ve liked.   
She sat alone in the office, her youngest sibling down the hall studying a dead body - or whatever forensic scientists did, Dean never really asked and Lorelai never really told. When Damien returned, he had Lorelai by his side and bags of food packed into small boxes.

Deanna stood to her feet quickly, her swivel chair rolling backwards as she scrambled towards the table. It’s not that she was starving, it’s just that she’d rather be eating than writing how someone died in grave professional detail.   
The trio settled down, two Winchesters and a Grady, each with their own boxes of food with some scattered on the table between them. Rory and Damien handled chopsticks with ease - Deanna settled with a switchblade, stabbing her food like a cavewoman. 

When she looked up, Damien was staring at her. She couldn’t pinpoint the emotion behind the stare. She bit the carrot off of the tip of the knife, the blade still between her teeth - she winked.  
Damien lowered his chopsticks.  
“Did you just wink?” He questioned, Lorelai choking on whatever vegan meal she was eating. She coughed, covered her mouth, and washed the food in her throat down with a beer. Deanna could feel her face turning red and her ears heating up.

There was silence between the three of them, Deanna and Damien’s eyes flickering away from the forensic scientist (likely silently asking for help) to land on each other again.  
“Oh.” He finally muttered out.   
“Oh.” Lorelai mocked him - really, it was embarrassing to watch her sister flirt in vain. She had to tease somebody.


	3. “Gasp, I’m your mistress.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deanna and Damien (try to) get busy in the station. Lorelai doesn’t know how to knock on very public spaces.

She couldn’t help the staring, seriously. She swore up and down to everyone who asked, she was only staring off into space. Not actively studying the detective. No, never.   
Deanna crossed her legs, her eyes following Damien as he spoke to their little assembled group of hunters - it was just Lorelai, Lorelai’s son JJ, Catherine, and the sheriff, who refused to not be in the know about something. Nosy bastard.

Damien sent the group their separate ways after a quick debriefing on the future of their little monster hunting precinct, but Deanna remained.   
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that was hot.” She admitted to the almost empty room. Damien paused his organizing of the white board and papers to look at her.  
“Hot?”  
“Yeah. Like, attractive. Bossing everybody around.”

Damien didn’t respond for a moment - how was he supposed to? Deanna’s constant flirting made it difficult to focus on the tasks at hand, but there was really nothing to be distracted from now, with everyone handling their own workloads.   
Deanna stood up from her seat in the back of the room, approaching the man as she shrugged her jacket off, hanging it on the back of a chair before she sat on the table he worked at.

“Detective Grady, giving it to everybody. Work, being the it, I mean.” She spoke in a low voice, leaning her arms back to hold up her weight as she tilted her head at him with a sly smirk. She flipped her hair as she peaked over his shoulder.   
“Looks like they’re all busy. Gone off to do their job. And that door has a lock on it.”  
“Deputy, that’s not professional of you to suggest.” Damien felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips as he approached the brunette, his hands brushing over her denim clad thighs as he pressed their foreheads together. 

They’d kissed a week or two ago already - it was fairly obvious to one another that there was something more than a platonic or professional, or even just sexual relationship. It got harder to hide it from the rest.   
“Oh, you and that stick up your ass. So married to your work. Gasp. I’m your mistress.” She teased him, a smile pressing dimples into her cheeks as her hands cupped his jaw on either side. Her knees presses gently into his hips, holding him close as she leaned in for a kiss. 

Every damn time. Her heart, for lack of a less sappy phrase, leapt out of her chest, perhaps in an attempt to get closer to his. Her hand trailed to the back of his head, brushing over the short hairs as he pressed her tongue into her mouth.   
She grazed her hands beneath his jacket, pushing it off of his shoulders and pulling it off. She dropped it on the table beside them before her hand made its way under his t-shirt, tracing over the bare skin.

The door behind Damien clicked open.  
“Damien, when you said bar, did you mean in town, or on the outski— OH.” Lorelai froze in the doorframe upon seeing the detective rather busy with somebody - she gasped when she saw her sister poke her head out from behind him. They both stared at her, Deanna covering her chest with the shirt that came off somewhere between jacket removal and sister interruption.   
“Um. I’m just. I have to go. My phone is flooding. My apartment is ringing. Bye.” Rory stared for a moment longer before cussing to herself. “Shit. I owe JJ ten bucks.”

The door closed. Deanna looked up at her newly donned boyfriend, pursing her lips to withhold the smile. It broke out once Damien snorted.   
“So much for the thrill of running around behind everyone’s backs, huh?” He teased as he pressed his face into Deanna’s neck. She wrapped her arms around him as the two laughed at their own embarrassment.


	4. and he was hers entirely.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deanna wakes Damien up with a ton of kisses and is immediately imprisoned for her morning crimes

When Deanna wakes up, she’s facing Damien. He’s shirtless, and the morning sun is shining through the window of their bedroom to illuminate his skin. She takes a moment to focus her eyes, and she realizes he’s holding her hand in his sleep.   
A small smile languidly pulls at the corner of her lips, half her face buried in his bicep beneath her head. She pulls her hand out of his grasp and gently touches his face, her palm brushing against the beard hair he’s let grow out a bit.  
“You’re so beautiful.” She whispered to him. She knew he couldn’t hear her in his slumber, but it was still worth saying. She had to remind any spirits or haunting souls around them - this man was beautiful, and he was hers entirely. 

She could stay like this for eternity. She could die like this. As long as it meant her last view was her sleeping warlock boyfriend - do warlocks even sleep? Either way, she can die happy right now.  
Her thumb brushed over his bottom lip, tracing her index finger over the bridge of his nose. She scooted closer, climbing on top of him to press her chest to his. Her thighs parted at his waist, straddling him as she peppered gentle kisses across his jaw.

Deanna felt the detective shift underneath her, one of his toned arms wrapping around her waist. Damien pulled her off, rolling on to his side as he wrapped both arms around his girlfriend’s body. She wheezed softly at the tight grip around him, squirming.  
“No. I’m going back to sleep. This is what you get.” Damien muttered, his voice raspy and god, Dean wanted to eat him alive. 

She attempted to squirm out of his grip for a second once again, but quickly gave up and went limp in his arms.  
“At least let me turn around to stare at you.” She requested. It was granted, his grip loosened as she turned in his arms, instantly squeezed to his chest again. Another wheeze.   
“My little personal space heater.” He stated in a quiet voice. 

They always woke up early - that was how they were raised, how their adult life treated them. They’d jolt awake after a nightmare or to the sound of an alarm, and they’d get to work. Not today.  
Today, they slept in safety and silence of each other, in the warmth of each other.   
The sky could throw hail at their window and their peace wouldn’t be disturbed.


	5. “pull over.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - Damien thinks he’s funny, but Dean doesn’t support his himbo-ism for once. Car sex ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, this is nsfw - it includes a sex scene, bruising, and big ol no-no words. carry on

The car ride was too long, for her liking. Damien’s hand rested on her thigh, cautiously inching up north as the other hand gripped the steering wheel. It was unbearable. She knew it’s uncomfortable, she knew it’d leave weird cramps in their muscles later - but she had to have him, now.  
“Pull over.” Deanna demanded. Damien looked over at her, knowing damn well what he was doing. Bastardly smirk on his lips, he tapped his lover’s thigh.  
“What’s the matter, De?” He asked her, faux confusion riddling his furrowed brows.  
“Pull over, smart ass.” 

He didn’t hesitate, turning the beat up SUV to the side of the road. He barely had time to shift gears into park before Deanna was in his lap, mouth on his with an invasive tongue and hands hungry for more exploration of this glorious body beneath her.   
Damien’s hands rested on her cheek, cupping the freckled skin in his hands as Deanna pushed her hips down against the erection trapped beneath the detective’s clothes. He bit her lip with a gentle gasp, the barest touch being a drug - it was her, and it was addictive. 

Deanna continued to grind her hips down against her love, trying to search out her own satisfaction in the process. She felt a pair of hands sliding up her t-shirt, over the cups of her bra. He could make out some lace, and he instantly knew which bra she wore. Once you have sex with one person multiple times a day, every day, it gets easy to know their undergarments with just a touch.  
Damien took hold of the t-shirt, pulling it over Deanna’s head and tossing it into the passengers seat. Another shirt gone, this time Damien’s. Then Deanna’s bra. The clothing began to pile up on the seat.

Dean felt the cold air nip at her skin through the cracked window, influencing her to roll it up completely. Damien’s hands slid up her bare torso as she fiddled with all those damn buttons, finding their way to her breasts yet again. His thumbs brushed over pink nipples each, before he dipped down to take the left one between his lips.  
The gasp he got from her was enough to egg him on. She rested her hand on the back of his head, the other on his knee as his teeth ever so gently clasped the bud. He licked, and sucked, and kissed until the skin on both breasts were a soft red. Dean couldn’t be bothered to stop him as the heat between her thighs grew hotter. 

She was about ready to make a joke about a volcano, but her brain fumbled over the words. She was awestruck for a moment, her mind still clinging to the way he bruised her pale body already. It was almost embarrassing how easily he had her wrapped around his finger. It would’ve been, had she been ashamed.   
Deanna leaned forward, bare chests pressed together as she kissed him, her hands slithering between their half naked bodies to unbuckle his jeans. A swift unbutton, an unzip, and she had an eager hand down his briefs.

Her fingers pulled the layers of clothing back a few inches down his thighs, her teeth finding way to his neck as she sucked and nipped at the skin. She needed to bruise him, no matter how hard it’d be given his darker tone. She wanted him to look in the mirror and think of her.   
After struggling with her own bottoms, she’d eventually found herself satisfied with his love bites, and with her state of nudity.

Their touches became more gentle. His hands grazed over the bottom of her spine, her hands explored his shoulders. They always seemed to love each other like their last moments were now, and they were together.   
The huntress pressed her forehead to Damien’s, her fingers wrapped around his shaft. She gave slow pumps, milking each groan and gasp out of him, bathing completely in the sounds. She cared more about his pleasure anyways, so to hear an audible confirmation that she was doing something right was doing something right to her. 

Deanna tilted her chin forward, kissing her lover again. Damien’s hand brushed up her back, combing his fingers into her brunette curls. Tongues slid over one another’s and goosebumps still attacked their skin.  
His other hand urged Deanna’s hips up. She took the obvious hint, and lifted them, aiming his length at the angle they knew too well, and sank down into his lap. She parted her lips with a whimper of an exhale, like she’d been missing this for eternity. He sighed and opened his eyes to watch her, his nose brushing against hers.   
A sight to behold. To have a powerful, well known, well feared criminal, (not only the best female hunter, but the best hunter full stop), on another plane of ecstasy as soon as you push into her. It’s a feat, at the least.

Deanna pursed her lips, dimples poking into her cheeks before she was rolling her lips. A languid and teasing motion that tortured her more than him. Damien whined softly, nudging her nose against her cheek.  
“C’mon, baby, don’t do that.” He whispered softly. She hesitated her next slow roll at the pet name. It drove her wild whenever he said it. Something so simple and so innocent when spoken from his lips was entirely something else. 

Deanna leaned forward, pressing her lips to his again with a fiery passion that clashed their teeth. She could feel the blood already drawing drop her lip at the impact, but he didn’t complain at the taste of iron on his tongue.   
She began to lift her hips, dropping them back into his lap with a pitiful whimper each time he fully pushed into her. She gripped the handle above their heads for balance, biting her bottom lip to withhold the moans in the back of her throat. She’d rather hear him. 

He gripped her hips, his thumbs naturally pressing into her skin, likely to leave bruises moments later. He wrapped an arm around her body, the other on her upper back to grip her hair as he began to work on her chest. Deanna whimpered, mirroring the lower sounds he made against her skin as he bit and nibbled, leaving bruise after bruise.  
“Fuck, don’t stop— just— just like that.” Damien egged his lover on, earning a breathy laugh from the woman on top of him. 

“Fuck me, you’re so beautiful.” She commented as her eyes landed on him, dipping her head down to sloppily kiss him. The windows began to fog due to the heavy breathing, and Damien’s hand streaked right through the dew on the glass. Deanna was too busy to notice, grinding her hips low and deep against Damien in an attempt to get some sort of friction on her clit.   
Of course, he knew her. She knew him. They knew when the other needed something without even asking. His hand left the glass, and pushed itself between Deanna’s thighs to rub the pink skin with his ring and middle finger. 

Deanna cried out embarrassingly loud as Damien bit along her jaw, his panting matching hers.  
“Shit! Shit, keep doin’— fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come—“ The hunter whimpered out, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead.  
“I know, baby. You were so good at work today. You— put those bastards in their place, didn’t you?” Damien gasped out. Deanna nodded helplessly.  
“Fuck, you need to wear those jeans more often. Y-you want me to do my job, but you make it so hard.” She responded with a breathless chuckle. 

Her fist clutched the handle above them as Damien’s hips began to thrust up to meet her drops, and she was gone.   
She cried out, her body feeling like jello for a brief few moments. Her fingertips were numb, her cheeks were red - she knew she looked good.   
She didn’t stop her riding until she felt his release inside of her, that so familiar hot feeling deep in her. It was easier to tell by the way he gripped her hip tighter and moaned out her name. A sinful little prayer to the righteous woman, one that she’d keep to herself forever.

Deanna panted, and so did Damien. She pressed her forehead to his, both closing their eyes as they sat in their sticky, sweaty bliss. Her hand dropped from the handle, resting on his bare chest. He could feel the throbbing aftermath of an orgasm between her thighs, and dared to move his hips again to get that reaction out of her. A whine from the overstimulation. He smiled as he caught his breath, opening his eyes when he felt her lips pressing against his cheek until they met his own.

He leaned forward, chasing more of her before he pressed her against the steering wheel. Both flinched and almost shrieked at the long beep that resulted from Deanna’s back hitting the horn. They continued to pant softly, laughing between gasps.


	6. grateful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carnival dates are the best dates.

Damien swung his hand, fingers intertwined with Deanna’s as they walked through the park. The lights and sounds and music around them wasn’t much of a distraction from one another.   
He turned his head, catching his brunette lover staring at him, dimples deep in her freckled cheeks. If looks could kill, she’d be able to revive him.

“What?” He questioned as they continued their walk through the carnival grounds, a smile escaping to the surface of his lips. She could swear there was a blush too.  
“Nothing. I’m just.. grateful.” She answered simply with a shake of her head.   
“Grateful?”  
“For you.”

Deanna pulled their hands up, kissing his knuckles softly as they stopped in front of a photo booth. Souls on the same wavelength, Damien let her pull him into the small booth. With their relatively giant sizes, they struggled to get situated in the tiny space given to them.  
Eventually, the detective grew tired of watching his love struggle, and pulled her into his lap by her waist.   
“This’ll look cuter anyways.” He told her before she could ask.  
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a crush on me.” She fed the required cash into the machine, selecting the options popping up on the low quality screen.

“I’m not liking these assumptions.” Damien watched himself on the screen, the countdown preparing them to snap the pictures. “Oh— King Louis!”  
Deanna knew the pose. She stuck her tongue out, rolling her eyes half into the back of her head as Damien gently gripped the hair on the top of her head, as if holding a disembodied head - she knew it better from Hamilton, not so much the textbooks her boyfriend read for fun. The camera flashed. 

“Okay. Um— oh! Princess Leia and Luke in the 1977 poster!” Deanna proposed. Instantly, the two were posed. She had her fingers mimicking a blaster, and he had his arms raised as if holding a lightsaber. Bright flash, and the poses faltered.   
The couple giggled childishly at themselves as the flash went off again, capturing them in their enamored states. 

Deanna cupped her lover’s cheek, pressing their lips together as a smile fought against her constant need to be kissing him. Another blinding flash from the camera.   
“One more picture. What do we do?” Deanna’s fingers tapped his cheek in anticipation.   
“Get married.” He responded with a faint smile. 

Her eyebrows furrowed, her own grin still evident but more confused now. She needed a moment to process it, but once it hit her, her cheeks hurt with the smile on her lips. The flash went off again.  
“You mean it?” She asked him, completely forgetting about the photos printing. “Seriously? That wasn’t just for the picture?”  
“No, it was for real.” Damien’s hand cupped her cheek, her tilting her head into his touch like a cat.

“Shut up, ‘cause—“ The hunter dug into her breast pocket on her coat, pulling out a ring she’d carried since the week they kissed. “I was waiting until the ferris wheel, dick!”   
Damien laughed hysterically, using both hands to now cup her cheeks before kissing her again. 

“Is that a yes?”  
“It’s a no, ‘cause I’m gonna ask and act like this didn’t happen.” She teased him as he reached for the two copies of their photos freshly printed.  
“Sorry, baby. Photographic evidence.” He held the photos up as she scrunched her nose up, holding back her smile as to hold on to her cranky facade.


End file.
